


Barefaced Truths

by bleachedpink



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Daredevil – Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spider-Man - Freeform, ddspidey, spiderdevil, spideydevil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleachedpink/pseuds/bleachedpink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's unsure about himself for the first time in what feels like forever. Matt isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barefaced Truths

He could hear the distress in Peter’s heartbeat when the other man swung in through his window; instead of the usual strong, slow beat, a staccato rhythm was playing inside of Peter’s ribcage. Matt had left the window open, after the panicked phone call he’d gotten. All he’d been able to understand was “I’m coming over,” and then the microphone had been swallowed up in the feedback of a busy intersection. Matt had rolled out of bed, broken arm and all, and flung the huge window wide open. Matt remembered sleepily wondering if a neon sign would be needed. It was the third time that week that Peter had dropped in impromptu.

  
    Now they stood in the center of Matt’s apartment, both barefaced. Peter’s mask lay on the floor where he’d torn it off. Matt’s glasses lay on his bedside table, waiting for the morning. Matt had thrown on his old bathrobe, plaid with a tear in one shoulder. Peter still had his spider suit on, and Matt tried to reel in his imagination when he smelled the coppery goldfish scent of blood.  
    They stood like that for a few quiet minutes, Peter not even fidgeting as he usually did. Matt smelled the monetary scent of blood, and the musk of old sweat.  The silence between them was heavy, and as tense as a violin’s string. Peter broke the standstill, falling across the few steps between them into a clinging hug as tight as Saran wrap.  
    Matt was briefly shocked, before he noticed the heaving of Peter’s chest, and the slight taste of salt in the air. Tears.   
    He wrapped his arms around Peter, ignoring that this was the first time either of them had broken the careful bubble of space that separated most people. But it wasn’t the time for social graces, as Matt’s robe would attest to. Matt muttered something that he hoped sounded comforting, and managed to get Peter seated on the couch.  
    the redhead briefly toyed with a dilemma between tea or coffee, before realizing that sleep might be what Peter needed, not caffeine. He ended up microwaving some milk and dumping hot chocolate mix into it. It wouldn’t taste the best to him, too artificially sweet, but he after spending long enough with Peter, he’d figured out that the guy had a bit of a sweet tooth. Settling down on the couch next to Peter, that careful space back between them, Matt handed over the cup of hot cocoa, and willed the wild thumping of Peter’s heart to calm. After a few tentative sips of the sweet drink, it started to, slowing from the rate of a wild rabbit’s footsteps to something more like his usual rhythm.   
    Once it was almost completely back to normal, Matt inhaled quietly and asked, “What happened?”  
    Three syllables, and three long moments before Peter answered. The scents of blood and hot chocolate mingled in the quiet.  
    Peter’s suit rustled, and Matt caught the image of him curled around the warm mug. “I don’t know if I should be Spider-man any more.”  
    Matt was sure that his face betrayed him as he fought for control of his voice against his emotions. “Why?” He finally asked, nothing other than simple questioning coloring the word.  
    Peter set the mug down on a side table and restlessly pushed himself up off the couch so that he could move more freely. “Look, you know this?” Peter asked, and Matt heard the snap of his suit against his skin after he plucked at it. Matt nodded. “Well, I’ve felt okay— good, even— wearing it, because I’ve done good stuff in it. Because even though a lot of people think I’m a criminal, I’ve _saved_ people, or stopped them from getting hurt, or _something_.” Peter paced around agitatedly as he talked, gesturing with his hands, and half-crawling up Matt’s walls. Another time, and Matt would have teased Peter about scuff marks that he couldn’t see, but right now, Matt was more concerned about the well-being of Peter than his walls.  
    “Yeah, alright,” Matt said, waiting for Peter to continue.  
    “Well tonight I—,” Peter paused for a second, and Matt heard his heart speed up again. His radar told him that the younger man was standing facing away from him, head bent towards the ground like it held all the answers. “I screwed up. And I think somebody’s really badly hurt because of me. Maybe even dead. “  
    “Peter, just because it happened once doesn’t mean—”  
    Peter cut him off with an angry burst of talking, “Matt, you don’t get it! I’m the _only reason_ that she was in any danger. It wasn’t some mugging, it was one of my fucking rogues gallery with some sort of personal vendetta against me so big that he wasn’t above hurting other people. The only thing holding her guts in when I swung her to the hospital was my _webbing_.”  
    “Peter, you’re the one that doesn’t get it,” Matt started, his voice deliberately calm, “I’ve been there, hell, I’ve been the one that hurt somebody like that. I’ve had somebody that I loved murdered in front of me because of some psycho with a revenge fetish. But you can’t stop. You were the first of all of us, when you were what, still in high school? So you should know this better than I do. You _never_ stop. Not when you’re feeling down, not when you’ve got a cold, not when you slip up. Because if you stop, they’ve already won. If you let somebody have leverage over you like that, then the entire point of doing this is lost.” Matt paused for a second, giving over to the urge to let his emotions leak into his voice and words, “You’ve saved a _hell_ of a lot more people than you’ve hurt, no matter what public opinion is. And if you hadn’t been there tonight, whoever was hurting people would have hurt a lot _more_ people, if you hadn’t shown up at all.”   
    Peter ran his hand through his hair, the smell of cheap shampoo momentarily tingeing the apartment for Matt, “But—,” Peter tried to protest before Matt burst in again.  
    “Peter, shut up, you know that I’m right. You’re not some dumb kid running around the streets that’s endangering himself and everybody around you. You’re a goddamn _hero_ , and everybody in this city needs you. Both parts of you. Peter Parker _and_ Spider-man. Don’t forget it.”  
    Peter turned to face Matt finally, and from the angle of his head, Matt could tell he was finally looking at him. “Besides, what would the city do without all the extra money they make off of Spider-man merchandising, right?” Matt could hear the weak grin in Peter’s joke, and grinned back, despite himself.  
    “Exactly. The marketers need you as much as anybody,” Matt could feel himself falling into their easy rapport again, like they were chasing after a thief, or something.  
    Peter broke the cycle by looking at the watch built into one of his gloves and starting, “Crud, it’s almost five! I’m teaching a class tomorrow, I’ve gotta go,” He said, pulling his mask back on and handing Matt the now-empty cup of cocoa. As Peter was standing on the ledge of the window, he turned and looked back over his shoulder at Matt, “See ya around, Matt.”  
    “Right,” Matt said, taking both of the cups to the kitchen counter, and shutting the window behind Peter. “See ya around.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I had lodged in my head for way too long. I'm always a sucker for hurt/comfort fics.


End file.
